


A Friend In Need

by CescaLR



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Character Death, Background Relationships, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Lavender Brown, Bisexual Ron Weasley, Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Seamus Finnigan, Gen, Hermione Granger Critical, M/M, Minor Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, No Bashing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Character, Pansexual Parvati Patil, i refuse to bash but i do like to warn that i don't stan miss granger so we're all on the same plate, yay? Good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21671566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: Harry names him Tom. You know, for the irony.(AKA Harry makes a snake friend and that helps with a lot of his heartache. My boy goes through too much. Please help him.)
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom The Snake, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hedwig & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Parvati Patil & Harry Potter, Seamus Finnigan & Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Terry Boot & Marietta Edgecombe
Comments: 19
Kudos: 91





	1. First.

**Author's Note:**

> Chillax. Nice fun(ish) ronarry-themed fix-it-of-sorts. (Cedric and Sirius still die. There's not much a little snakey friend can do, but... one can do enough.)

Harry's got a lot more freedom, this summer. Oh, he's out of the house a lot anyway, ever since Hogwarts started - they don't really want him around, 'stirring up trouble', or 'plotting to blow up the street', or whatever else the Dursleys came up with that week - but it's... more evident that he's mostly  _ shunted  _ out the front door, since he told Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about his 'convict' godfather.

Sirius, in that respect, is very useful. And apparently, he laughed his arse off when he read Harry's letter, detailing the various shades of puce and sickly green Uncle Vernon's whole form had turned at the threat he had no idea was pretty much weightless since Sirius is in another country at this point. Somewhere with bright, colourful birds, Harry thinks, because that's what Sirius sends his letters by way of. 

But still. The point of all that is to state this: Harry is out of the house a lot, this summer. He spends most of his time in the park, or a bit further afield. After all, so long as he's back by six in time for cooking tea, they don't give a rat's arse about what he does with his time. He could be dealing drugs down a dark alley and they wouldn't care, so long as it didn't get spread around he was doing it. A lot like magic, really, these days - things like that are forbidden, mostly because they aren't 'normal'. Partially because the Dursleys are afraid of them. But mostly because they're dicks. 

At least, in Harry's opinion. Not like he'd be dealing drugs any time soon, mind you, because Harry's pretty sure a lot of people on the street actually think he  _ does,  _ but, you know, it's part of the simile. Or the metaphor? Well, either one. It's not like Harry can know; Hogwarts doesn't do English lessons, and primary school English is more about knowing how to spell your own name and how to read than forming pretty sentences to put on paper.

Anyway. All of this, being alone, being a bit further afield than he perhaps should be at the tender age of thirteen, it all adds up to him right now, sitting in a park, under the shade of a willow tree, staring at a snake.

"Hello." Harry hisses.

" _ You speak."  _ It says. Harry thinks it's an adder or something. Hey, he can talk to snakes - that doesn't mean he knows the different breeds or anything. 

"Yeah," Harry replies. The snake hums and leans up to look him in the eye. 

_ "Interesting."  _ It says.  _ "More than lying around in a park, waiting to be stood on by you useless bipedal neanderthals. Take me with you." _

The snake flicks it's tail - well, a snake is really just one long tube, so does it have a tail, or is that just the end of its body? - and stares at him, unblinking.

"Uh," Harry says, then thinks of Dudley's reaction. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

The Dursleys are too scared of his godfather to say no, apparently, to having a snake in the house.

"You better keep that thing locked up or I swear I'll put them  _ both  _ down," Is still threatened by one very irate Uncle Vernon, moustache trembling in his anger, but, you know. Harry's got a snake friend, so at least he can talk to someone who won't bite his head off. Metaphorically. The snake might bite his head off literally if it were big enough. But, you know.

" _ As if I'd let that creature harm a scale on my body,"  _ The snake hisses, as irate - if not perhaps more - than the middle-aged man Harry is reluctantly related to the family of had been. So to say; quite angry indeed.

_ "I'd like to see him try and kill Hedwig,"  _ Harry says, putting the snake on his desk and then dropping onto the chair, ignoring it's worrying groan of complaint. The wooden old thing has held his weight for three years, it can handle it for a few more.

The snake laughs - or, Harry supposes, makes the sounds a parseltongue  _ hears  _ as laughter - then promptly curls up under the lamp Harry stole the lightbulb for from Dudley's room that one time he got back before everyone else had. It didn't happen often, so he'd taken advantage - grabbed some food and a couple things from the cupboard to help fix up his room - there was still so much stuff Dudley had left broken and half-useless that Harry can pass the time trying to fix... since, you know, once he's done his homework, it's not like he's got anything better to do, now they're too scared to give him as many chores as they used to. Still, he can't do magic himself, not legally, so it’s not like they don't give him  _ any.  _ But you know - he gets less, lately. Thanks, again, to Sirius.

"Well," Harry says, then he realises the snake has fallen asleep.

* * *

The snake has a really long name, so Harry just calls him - well, it's funny to Harry. Probably not to anyone else, anyone - you know, sane.

See, Harry calls him Tom, you know, for a laugh. Look, Harry's just  _ bored,  _ alright? He's bored. At least when the Durselys aren't scared of him he gets given things to  _ do. _

Harry grins out the window, as a small bundle of feathers tumbles through the air excitedly in his direction. Pig, or more formally Pigwidgeon, the owl Sirius got Ron as a sort of apology for the whole Pettigrew-is-Scabbers situation, flaps down onto the window sill and hoots excitedly at him.

_ "Small snack?"  _ Tom asks, curiously. Pig hoots worriedly and jumps onto Harry's shoulder.

" _ Ron's owl, _ " Harry says, warningly. " _ Not a snack. _ "

" _ You're a strange bipedal,"  _ Tom says, annoyed. He curls up and lifts his head, nods at Hedwig.  _ "She understands. You eat the small. Fight the weak." _

There might have been other reasons Harry called him Tom.

" _ Hedwig's much nicer than you are _ ," Harry says. Hedwig hoots in affirmation.

_ "I see how it is,"  _ Tom grumbles. Harry strokes Pig's feathers as he detaches the letter Ron sent him, then nudges the owl gently away as he moves to sit down and read it. Pig hoots happily, alighting next to Hedwig as she makes room, then starts happily munching away at her food.

Hedwig coos at Pig. Harry thinks her name's pretty apt, honestly. Pig... not so much. You probably shouldn't trust Ginny to name things, Harry thinks.  _ Pigwidgeon,  _ just... how? Why?

Not that Harry's much better, mind, but 1 out of 2 isn't bad. 1 good name that is. The other name is Tom.

Harry looks down at Ron's letter, finished with that distraction.

_ Mate, _

_ Caught Ginny breaking into the broom shed again. Shame you aren't here, we could do a pick-up game, she's gotten pretty good. But, meant she had to do the weeding today so I got some time to write this. Mum's badgering me to do homework, but it's not even two thirds through the summer, yet! Blimey. I need more of a break than that. Even Hermione's been quiet on that front, and you know what she's like. _

Harry does, in fact, know what Hermione is like. But Ron's right - Harry hadn't actually noticed, mostly because he's not quite as observant as he'd like to think, but - well, thinking about it, you know, reflecting on Hermione's letters... yeah. She hadn't mentioned much about doing the schoolwork they'd been set.

_ Probably because she worked herself half to death last year,  _ and Ron's probably right there, too.  _ But, you know. Anyway, not much has happened since the last letter. It'll be time for you to come with us to the cup, soon, though! That should be a blast. Ireland versus Bulgaria! My money's on Krum, 'course, you'd be stupid not to. Man's a genius. Ireland has better chasers, though, but Quidditch is the seeker's game, so I guess we'll see. Hermione should be with us, anyway, and I hope she won't be all - you know - about Quidditch while we're there. It's just not the place, right? _

Hermione really didn't  _ get  _ Quidditch. Harry finds himself nodding along, because, yeah, he does know, and - right. That's right. Mostly, Hermione mutters 'boys' whenever Quidditch comes up, and she doesn't sound so nice when she says it - but Harry doesn't  _ get it,  _ because half the team are girls anyway. All the chasers are. Alicia, Angelina, Katie. Cho's on the Ravenclaw team as seeker, for another example. The only house without girls on the team is Slytherin, but then, that's  _ Slytherin.  _ Not the best sort.

Harry just thinks Hermione doesn't like things  _ she  _ doesn't get. But he's not going to say that, because Hermione's the argumentative sort, and Harry can't be bothered with that, ever, not unless he's proper angry.

_ Well, that's all I've got. See you in a week, mate! _

Harry smiles, as he rolls back up the parchment, and puts it in the drawer where he keeps all his other letters. Harry's never thrown out a letter, not a single one - he can't exactly get away with it, but also, why would he? They're - they're a link. A reminder that he's got people other than the ones he lives with. People who matter, people who care.

Tom stares flatly at him when he looks up, then blinks, deliberately slowly.

"What?" Harry asks.

" _ Human language is strange,"  _ Tom says, decidedly.  _ "Mate means 'lover' and 'friend'. At least we say what we  _ **_mean._ ** _ " _

Harry goes red and chokes on thin air. Tom just laughs.

* * *

It's very easy to keep Tom secret. He's just a little adder or something (Harry still doesn't know and probably won't check until someone makes him) so he can hide away in the Dursley's garden and keep the rodent and bug population down while Harry's away. And it's a comfort, then, to come back after - after everything, that year, that  _ blasted  _ year, that  _ fucking awful year,  _ and find Tom, sitting there in his room on his desk, curled up under the lamp.

Hedwig hoots softly as he passes, but Harry just slumps onto his chair. He'd held it together, mostly, for his friends at the end there, but... the train journey wore him down even more. And now he's just - just a ball of anger and sadness and tiredness all rolled up into one short package.

_ "You smell like grief,"  _ Tom says, tongue flicking out to taste the air.  _ "I'm coming with you next year." _

Okay. Harry thinks. "Fine." He says, sullenly.

* * *

" _ Nothing on the news, Speaker,"  _ Tom says. " _ Your bipedal brethren say nothing of the Heir." _

Harry stares listlessly up at the sky. " _ Great _ ." He says, flatly. " _ Fucking perfect _ ."

Tom flicks his tail.  _ "I'm not at fault."  _ He says.  _ "My senses are impeccable. You are looking in the wrong place." _

_ "I would've thought... _ " Harry trailed off.

" _ Bipedals are useless,"  _ Tom says.  _ "Oblivious, mostly. Even the ones with sticks." _

Harry snorts, despite himself. " _ Especially the ones with sticks _ ," Harry says.

Tom tenses. His tongue flicks out, and he hisses.  _ "Stick. Speaker, your stick. Get it out." _

Harry listens to the snake and takes out his wand.

_ "Run,"  _ Tom says and starts slithering off. Harry follows, quickly, quicker, but doesn't stop for him - Tom's small and hardy and just a snake. Nobody's going to kill the adder (or whatever breed he is) because nobody will notice him.

Harry stops running when he gets to the park. The adder slithers up to him, then climbs his leg, torso, and settles around his forearm.

_ "Safe, for now,"  _ Tom says.  _ "Hide. Your nest is not unsafe, mortality-wise." _

" _ Not a nest _ ," Harry reminds him, as they walk back to the Dursleys. " _ Not mine _ ."

* * *

When the dementors attack, Tom squeezes tight around his wrist. It anchors him when the screaming gets louder, and as he shouts  _ "Expecto Patronus!"  _ He sees - Ron, and Hermione, crystal clear, he sees his parents, a strange, faded image - he sees Sirius, and he sees Hedwig, and he sees a little green adder, scoffing and calling him an idiot bipedal with a stick for not doing this sooner.

Tom hides in Harry's luggage when he's flown to Grimmauld Place. Harry doesn't get to take him out until that night when Ron's snoring away in the bed nearest the window.

Harry wants door access, just in case.

" _ Hey _ ," Harry hisses quietly.

_ "Horrible - oh, you're back,"  _ Tom says, straightening up, stopping in the middle of his heated tirade.  _ "I was stuffed in a trunk!" _

Harry winces.

_ "I'm going to bite the pink shifter, mark my words."  _ The snake promises. Harry's ninety per cent sure he's not fatally venomous, or anything, but he's not sure enough of what he might be to be amused by the threat.

_ "Tonks,"  _ Harry says, quietly.  _ "Humans have names, remember?" _

" _ So do we, you're just lazy."  _ Harry inclines his head because Tom isn't wrong. Tom's name is something long-winded about the sound of - movement on leaf litter or some shit, Harry doesn't remember.

" _ I'm not sure how I'm going to keep you a secret _ ," Harry whispers, admitting an unfortunate truth.

_ "I'm stealthy,"  _ Tom says.  _ "And your clothes don't fit. Wear long sleeves or the ones with hidden caves. I can hide." _

Harry's lips quirk up. " _ Sure _ ," He says. " _ Why not. _ "

Harry manages to keep the snake a secret until halfway through  _ January,  _ which feels like an impressive feat. Over a year, and nobody's been the wiser. A whole six - well, a bit less - since wizards started being around his person again, and nobody's noticed until now.

And it's Luna Lovegood who realised it.

Well. What else did Harry expect?

"I just," Hermione shakes her head. "I don't get it. Why didn't you tell us?"

Harry shrugs. "He's just a snake," He says, amused. "I felt like it?"

"Not like he got a tattoo, or anything," Dean says. They're at the table in the Great Hall, and today it appears their year-mates have decided to join in on the conversation. "How, then?" Hermione challenges.

"Well, he stayed in Surrey," Harry says. "All of fourth year. And nobody bothered to pay attention, I guess, over summer."

Hermione narrows her eyes at him, and Harry just shrugs again, feeds bits of sausage to the little snake hiding on his forearm.

A snake doesn't really  _ change  _ much, all things considered. It's just a little snake.

But it gives Harry someone to talk to. And that changes enough.

Harry takes the snake to the DOM battle. Why is up in the air. The brutal honesty is that he just forgot the little guy liked to hang out in his pockets, and he was wearing what Tom had decided to curl up in that morning. Thanks to Dudley's sizing, Harry's pockets were really quite big, perfectly comfortable sleeping arrangements for a little-ish but not tiny adder. The right size for a snake that can wind around the forearm and sit carefully perched with its head lifted above your hand, following the curve of it's back, leaning slightly on your fingertips. That's how he talks to Tom, mostly.

But for now, they're in a battle. Tom's distracted with wrestling a death eater for their wand, and Harry's fifteen, and Sirius falls through the veil.

Afterwards, it's quiet.

Harry's grief over Sirius is vastly different from his grief over Cedric. It's a different kind of trauma, the DOM battle versus the Graveyard. This is a vastly different situation.

Tom curls up, quietly, next to Harry when he's lying on the bed, or on a bench, staring at the ceiling.

It helps.

* * *

_ "Old codger!"  _ Tom hisses loudly. " _ Wanker! Salazar, I'm covered in mud!" _

" _ The Weasley's do live on a farm _ ," Harry reminds the snake, picking him up from where he'd fallen. He is a big enough snake to deal with a bit of mud, but to be fair to him, it's quite a lot, here, right now, and the place seems more than a little flooded.

Harry wades towards the Burrow and walks inside. Everyone's there - Molly smothers him with a hug first, then Hermione gives him a quick squeeze. Ginny smiles brightly at him in greeting, over Ron's shoulder, as Harry hugs his best mate.

"I would know if my best friend was in my room, mum," Ron says, in response to what his mum says. "Where'd you come from?"

"The bog," Harry says, dryly.

"Bet Tom didn't like that," Ginny says. Harry laughs. "No, not really," Harry says, and Tom slithers from his grip, up to his arm and stops on his shoulder. He nods to Ginny, dipping his head, then lunges at Ron. Ron yelps, a bit, as Harry winces, because Tom really needs to stop doing that. Still, Tom nestles around Ron's bicep, and stares smugly at Harry as if to say ' _ ha! got your friend.'  _ Or something. Look, Harry doesn't know. Tom just likes Ron. Not - not so much Hermione, but then, that's because Tom likes Luna. He likes Ginny, too. Okay, so he likes everyone but Hermione, Harry's working on it.

Ginny snorts a bit at Ron's yelp. She brushes a finger over Tom's head as she passes by, back up the stairs. "See you in the morning, Harry," She says. "Good to have you back, mate." Ron grins. "C'mon. I'll get the camp bed out."

* * *

Seamus, being one of the early 17-year-olds, buys Firewhisky first chance he can get. Look, he's been trying for rum for six years, Harry's not going to judge.

Being a good sport, and all, Seamus shares it with the rest of them. It's an after-party, for - something. Not quidditch, Harry knows that much, but something. To be honest, Gryffindors will find any excuse to throw a rowdy party, mostly because they're teenagers that want to have fun and drink alcohol. You know, like teenagers do. Or, well, the teenagers Harry knows. Granted, the ones that hang around the parks in Surrey and the ones at Hogwarts are probably not like your general average teenager since he's pretty sure the former do drugs given the fact that they, well, do them right there and then, and hey, the latter have  _ magic. _

Anyway. Firewhiskey's all well and good, but Harry's drunk, now, which could explain the conversation he's having with his snake locked in the shower while Seamus bangs on the bathroom door.

_ "I'm drunk,"  _ Harry hisses,  _ "So d'n't take th's s'r'sley, but..ttt..."  _ Harry trails off.  _ "Why'd'y not like 'Mione?" _

_ "She's plenty acceptable as a companion." _ Tom rolls his eyes.  _ "I don't like her for you. There are many better options. The Weasley brood. Luna. Et Cetera." _

_ "Eh?" _

" _ Do I have to spell it out for you-" _

"Harry!" Seamus bangs on the door again. Harry opens it and stumbles out, letting the other teen in.

"What were you doing?" Ron asks.

"Forgot where I was," Harry admits. "Talking to Tom."

"That's still weird." Dean says. "Why Tom?"

Harry and Ron share a glance, amused.

"Oh, no, I get it, secret trio stuff." Dean falls back on his bed.

"A bit," Harry says.

Tom hisses angrily, but Harry pays him no mind.

* * *

Harry feels a little - no, a lot loopy, on Felix Felicis. It's a bit like - well, it's a bit like what he thinks drugs are probably like, and yeah, he's noticed there's a theme with his thoughts, lately, the last few years, but oh well. The metaphor works and keeps working, so you know, don't fix what isn't broken.

Anway.

" _ Do you think he knows I exist _ ?" Harry asks, after banging his head on the doorframe. Not the top, obviously, Harry's five-foot-not-much, but the side. Don't ask how he did this, because even when not on luck potion Harry's never really one to walk into walls. Or doorframes.

_ "Did you get brain damage?"  _ Tom asks.  _ "Who?" _

" _ Ron _ ," Harry finds himself saying, and then thinks, oh. I really am an idiot, aren't I?

" _ Finally."  _ Tom says. " _ But that's such a stupid question, speaker. You've known each other for six years! You sleep in the same room! You've saved each other's lives, and then some! Come on, now!" _

_ "Yeah, but," _ Harry shrugs. " _ I don't know where I'm going _ \- sir!" Harry interrupts himself, surprised, and Tom sighs.  _ "So close,"  _ He mutters, as Harry goes on to try and get the memory from Slughorn.

"... won't bother," Hermione finishes.

"Well - that - "

Tom hisses angrily and Ron looks warily at him.

"See?" Hermione says, smugly.

"He's not agreeing with you," Harry says, absently. "He hates the greenhouses. And you know he likes Ron more, anyway."

"Like snake like owner, then?" Hermione snaps, then walks off to get another plant cutting.

"What?" Harry says. "What? Don't - oh, you're gone."

Harry looks over at Ron, who's scratching his ear, which, from what Harry can see under his hair, has gone a little red at the top. As has, presumably, the other one. People don't tend to blush asymmetrically.

"Well, why not," Harry says. "I don't even want to go anyway. We can hang out with Luna. Got the memory, so not like we need to suck up to Slughorn anymore."

"Lucky that," Ron says.

"We'll hang out with Luna," Harry says, and that's that.

* * *

Harry's not sure what he's feeling, when Hermione tells him of her plan. Get Ron jealous, get Ron's attention, ergo get Ron. It seems like a pretty stupid plan. Jealousy doesn't make for - much good, just a lot of anger. She should really already know this, given how Ron acts about her letters to Krum, and all.

And then Lavender kisses Ron full on the mouth, and Harry doesn't know what to feel  _ at all. _

Harry wanders after Hermione, snake tightly wound around his forearm and bad-mouthing everyone to kingdom-come, mostly, Harry thinks, to distract him.

"Is this what it's like?" Hermione asks. "When you see Dean, with Ginny?"

And that's easier. It's safer than his - whatever it is. Confused feelings. Because - because Harry's isn't a huge fan of seeing Ginny with Dean, to be brutally honest, but also... he's not that bothered. Ginny's going to break up with him, Harry's pretty sure, and she's hanging around Luna more lately anyway.

Friendship's more important, Harry thinks. Which is why - why  _ he  _ can't like Ron, aside from the myriad of other reasons. None of those being the 'he' thing, by the way, Harry's not ignorant of the existence of guys who like guys, and so on, just the nice words for it. Word of mouth, mostly, and the only mouth he's heard anything about it all from is Vernon's. And Harry's not inclined to agree with what he says in the first place, but these people are just living their lives. Merlin, Uncle Vernon's such a dick. Though, Petunia's not a fan of girls who like girls, either. She's also a dick.

"In a way," Harry says. Harry thinks he likes seeing this less.

"He's having  _ fun,  _ anyway," Hermione says, sharply. "Enjoying the party?"

"Not really," Harry says because the person he'd actually like to be hanging out with is currently locking lips with a girl he'd never even talked to before. Well, outside of Divination.

The door bursts open, and a giggling Lavender and pleased looking Ron barge through.

Hermione straightens her back, and Lavender winces, looks between them - then backs out.

"Hey," Ron says, breathlessly, grinning, so pleased.

"Don't want to leave Lavender waiting, Ronald," Hermione says, and Harry frowns. Ron's smile dims in confusion. Hermione stands, stalks on past - and then, all of a sudden, with a shriek to rival any banshee's, she shouts -  _ Oppugno! -  _ but Tom is quicker, has already slithered across the room and - Hermione shrieks again, as Tom climbs her leg, moves up her torso then along her arm. She wrestles with the adder, but he's got a strong grip - and he sinks his fangs into the fingers holding her wand, forcing her to drop it.

Harry casts a  _ protego _ , watches the birds - little golden canaries, fast as bullets - bang against it as Ron moves away, to safety.

Tom drops from Hermione's arm, slithers back over to Harry.

_ "This has gotten entirely too out of hand, by Salazar, you complete buffoons!"  _ Tom shouts, and Harry - Harry has to agree.

Hermione and Ron need time without seeing each other to cool off, which means Ron spends more time with Lavander and more time with Harry. It's almost pleasant, but then Harry stumbles across them making in the hallway, and that's less great to see. Hermione thinks he's sympathising, and he lets her. Harry doesn't want birds being shot at  _ him.  _ Or Ron, again.

That wouldn't be pleasant for Hermione. Which is most definitely not the reason, but its a white lie, really, all things considered. 

It doesn't take long for Ron to break up with Lavender. It's a combination of things - romantic incompatibility, 'won-won', and others he won't name that cause it, but Parvati still looks at them all like they've stabbed her in the gut whenever Harry catches her sitting near Lavender and staring them down. You know, like she'd like to turn the knife on them for a bit.

Still, Harry rather thinks its worked out well for them both, given he caught them making on each other in a corridor the other week.

(Lavender didn't take long to get over the break up, either. Really, for both her and Ron, it had just been - a bit of fun. Someone to hang out with, someone who wouldn't, well, judge, Harry thinks. It's not like either of them had dated anyone else before each other, after all, and Harry doesn't think it'd be so bad, for either of them to be your first -friend, your first kiss, et cetera, if that's your type of thing. Cause, you know, they're good people, and they're good looking, and - yeah.)

* * *

Harry doesn't approve of Hermione's plan. 

He hears about it, of course, because they're in Hogwarts, and also Tom is a little gossip. It just seems a bit ridiculous. If she likes Ron, which she does, she should just  _ say so.  _ Not faff around with letters to Krum and asking out, of all people,  _ Cormac McLaggen. _

Harry spikes Ron's pumpkin juice, but he doesn't, actually. It's a - mood booster, a placebo. Make Ron think he's extra lucky, and he'll have the confidence to be as good at Quidditch as he actually is, instead of what his insecurity tells him he is. It  _ works,  _ and Harry almost wants to punch Hermione in the face for bringing down Ron's mood so heavily after by completely insisting that he had to have been on  _ Felix Felicis _ .

Tom hisses angrily at her from his place on the back of the couch. The other Gryffindors don't mind him, much, they - they actually  **like** him in a sort of ironic way. Like,  _ Ha! Take that, Slytherin, your animal likes us better. _

Hermione turns away in a huff.

"I didn't spike it," Harry says. "Look." Harry takes out the  _ Felix Felicis _ , stopper still wedged in there and full to the neck. "Not a single drop."

Hermione looks flustered, Ron looks a little smug but a lot hurt, and Harry's just annoyed at her. And, yeah, upset on Ron's behalf. He's  _ plenty  _ good at quidditch.

That last part was necessary, because of this: Hermione's plan being  _ asking out McLaggen.  _ And, of course, including as much insistence on Ron's inability to play Quiddich by way of saying, of all things, "I like  _ very good  _ Quidditch players."

"Seriously?" Harry asks. "He's not even on the team!"

"Well -"

"No, wait," Harry says. "Don't. I  _ know  _ you, Hermione, you're just trying to make who you actually like jealous."

"Harry!" She hisses. Tom slithers over to her and she freezes, looking at him warily. Harry doesn't fault her, but he also doesn't fault Tom for stopping her from really hurting Ron.

“No, say it,” Harry says, forcefully. “I’m  _ sick and tired  _ of this. You’re being ridiculous.” 

“Then why don’t you ask out who you like?” Hermione demands.  _ That’s different,  _ Harry thinks,  _ I don’t know. You do.  _

“Circumstance,” Harry says, simply. “You like him.  _ He likes you.” _

Tom hisses, angry frustration, and then thwacks Harry with his tail.

_ “Idiot bipedal,”  _ Tom mutters. “ _ Don’t encourage her!” _

Harry frowns at Tom. 

“See?” Hermione says, flicking her eyes at the adder. “Even Tom knows-”

“Tom doesn’t agree with you,” Harry says, tiredly, because she tends to misinterpret Tom’s body language a lot. “He’s disagreeing with me, actually. But, for once, out of the two of us,  _ I’m right.  _ You shouldn’t beat around the bush with him, trust me. Being direct about it’s the way that works.”

“How would you know?” Hermione arches an eyebrow at him.

“Out of you and Lavender,” Harry says, “Which one has he kissed?”

“Harry,” Hermione hisses. Seamus is grinning into his bacon. Harry doesn’t rightly care who listens. Maybe it’ll make Hermione get some goddamn common  _ sense.  _

“Look,” Harry says. “Just stop messing with him. Either date Viktor or  _ McLaggen  _ or get on with it. It’s getting  _ exhausting,  _ seriously.”

“It’s your fault anyway,” Parvati says, stabbing her spoon into her porridge. “That Lav and him didn’t work out. Least you could do is make it  _ worthwhile.” _

“And I’m sure you aren’t  _ happy  _ it didn’t work out,” Hermione says, scathingly. 

“Hey,” Parvati scowls at her, “I  _ love her.  _ She was happy with Ron, so I was happy for her. That’s what happens when you care about someone, Granger. You want them to be  _ happy.  _ Whether that’s with you, or with someone else.”

Her eyes skate over Harry, and he feels like she sees more than she should. 

“No matter what.” She finishes, eyes landing on Seamus, and then she stands, leaves the table, breakfast half-finished and pumpkin juice untouched. 

Seamus isn’t grinning any more, and Harry thinks of Dean and Ginny, and what it felt like to see Lavender and Ron -

Maybe he gets it. Harry, that is, because Harry’s pretty sure he’s the last person on earth to realise what it all  _ means. _

* * *

Parvati corners Harry - and, incidentally, Tom - in the hallway outside HOM. Harry waves off Ron, who shrugs, and Hermione, who narrows her eyes. They leave down opposite ends of the hallway, and Harry winces. 

“I have something to say to you,” Parvati says, firmly. “There’s a hidden alcove off the next hallway.” Harry offers. “No paintings.”

Solid.” Parvati nods, and Harry leads her there. “ _ Dormant _ ,” Harry says to the painting covering it, and a man peeks his head from behind the tree. “ _ Careful, anyone could hear you _ !” He hisses, and Parvati frowns at him. 

“Oh.” Harry looks at the painting. Right. Parseltongue. Harry really wishes he could tell the difference at this point, honestly. “Parseltongue,” Harry tells her, and the frown lessens. 

“Why do you have it?” Parvati asks, curiously. “It’s genetic, I’m pretty sure. Rarer in Britain than elsewhere, but that’s probably proportional to the population of snakes,” She muses, “I mean, Ireland never had any.” 

Harry shrugs, not knowing any more than she does, and probably less - as he pulls himself up through the portrait, then helps the other Gryffindor up and inside the alcove. It’s not quite a room, but it’s a quiet space they can talk without fear of being overheard. 

Harry’s never really used it before, but that’s mostly because he hasn’t had to. There’s a lot of secret spaces in the castle and a lot that most of the students know about. This is just one that’s harder to access, for reasons he’s just found out. 

“Alright, what is it?” Harry asks. 

“Well, one,” She says, “Is Tom with you?”

Tom pokes his head out of the wrist of Harry’s robe. “ _ Translate.”  _ He flicks his tongue out, tasting the air. “ _ She seems genuine, as far as bipedals can be.” _

“Yeah,” Harry holds his arm up, so Tom and Parvati can see each other properly. 

“Definitely an adder,” Parvati states. “They’re venomous, but non-aggressive. Last resort, generally speaking. Pure black - not very common - can I hold it?”

Harry asks Tom, who agrees, and he holds the snake out. “Male,” She nods, checking. “At a guess, around forty-five centimetres, which is nowhere near as big as they can get - about sixty-five, for the guys. Must be a young one - how big was he when you found him?”

“Um, not that big,” Harry says. “I was thirteen? He could wrap around my wrist, but that was about it.”

“How many times?” 

“Twice,” Harry said. 

“Hmm.” She nods. “Well - anyway. He’s healthy.” She hands him back over. “Now we’ve broken the ice,” She says, “Tom doesn’t like Hermione, does he?” 

_ “Do you like Hermione?”  _ Harry asks. 

_ “No.”  _ Tom hisses. “ _ She is a bad choice.” _

“No,” Harry says, “He doesn’t.”

“Why?” Parvati probes.

_ “Why?”  _ Harry translates.

_ “She is. A. Bad. Choice.”  _ Tom repeats. 

“Doesn’t think she’s a good friend, I guess.” Harry says. Tom’s tail thwacks him. “ _ I’d bite you if you weren’t my idiot stick-waver, speaker.”  _ Tom hisses, angrily. “ _ Mate. A bad choice for your  _ **_mate._ ** _ ” _

“Uh,” Harry says. “Among others.”

“What others,” Parvati persists. “Harry, I just want to help out.”

“Last time you did that wasn’t very fun for you,” Harry reminds her. 

She waves a hand, “The Yule Ball was a mess,” She says, “For everyone. We were fourteen, Merlin, I’m not going to blame us for what we did. You were a bad date, don’t get me wrong, but being a bad date got me a very good one with a cute guy from Durmstrang and you got to hang out with Ron, so it worked out in the end.”

“S’pose so,” Harry says. 

“Padma was also a bit of a snob, I’m not going to lie,” Parvati adds. “Ron can’t control what his mum can afford, robes wise - anyway. My point - bygones. It doesn’t matter, and this favour is in thanks.” 

“Thanks?” Harry asks. 

“On behalf of Lav,” Parvati says, “For not letting Hermione hurt Ron that night. Anyway - what reason does Tom have for not liking Hermione that you don’t want to tell me?”

Harry sighs, shrugs. “She’s a  _ bad choice of mate,”  _ Harry says, rolling his eyes. 

“Mate as in, lover, partner, girlfriend,” Parvati cocks her head. “Well, I could’ve told you that.”

“ _ I  _ could’ve,” Harry says, exasperated. “She’s like my  _ sister.  _ **_No._ ** ”

Parvat smiles. “I’ll nip the rumours in the bud if I can,” She says. “Who does he think is a good choice?”

_ “Who do you think would be a ‘good choice?’”  _ Harry parrots, to Tom, mildly bemused. 

“ _ Finally. A stick-waver that isn’t an idiot.”  _ Tom sits up. Or, rears back, Harry supposes. Raises his head. “ _ Ginny, Luna -  _ **_Ron,_ ** _ obviously -” _

“Ginny,” Harry says, shrugging. Parvati purses her lips. “He said more than that,” She pointed out. “Don’t make me ask my second-cousin for a second opinion. He studies Parseltongue, and he knows a lot of people with the ability. He also owes me a favour. I will be able to converse with Tom without a mediator, eventually.” She warns. 

“This is ridiculous,” Harry says. “What’s the  _ point?” _

“You didn’t like Ron dating Lavender,” Parvati says. “I know, because I didn’t either. And you don’t like Dean dating Ginny, but that’s not the same reason Seamus doesn’t. That reason is more similar to the reason you didn’t like Ron and Lavender. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry says. 

“Harry, I’m going to say this once, alright? Because you might not get another chance.” Parvati stares, imploringly, at him. “Take your own advice. I don’t profess to know Granger well, but I know she won’t, so… do what you  _ want to do.  _ Before she can mess it all up again, with the use of canaries or no. Lavender’s upset, but she just wants Ron to be happy,” Parvati says. “And  _ safe.  _ And - And I get it, alright? I know what it’s like, to be in the position you’re in. Trust me. Would you rather your  _ best friend  _ to be with someone, romantically, that has  _ proven themselves  _ as someone who  _ will not hesitate to hurt them,  _ or would you rather them be with someone who wants  _ nothing but the best  _ for them?” Parvati looks straight at him. “We both have best friends who need that vocal, verbal affirmation of care. Of  _ love.  _ Just… don’t make things worse, alright? Try not to.” 

Parvati left the alcove. Harry frowned after her, Tom tight around his arm.  _ “She’s right, you know,”  _ Tom said. Harry didn’t actually need to translate, but if Parvati had been under that impression… well. He wasn’t going to rectify it, any time soon. Not like it was needed, after all. 

“I’m going to start the DA up again,” Harry decided, a non-sequitor, just so he didn’t have to think about what she’d said. 

_ “Fucking damn it, you  _ **_idiot bipedal-”_ ** Tom started ranting, and Harry ignored him.

* * *

Harry didn’t tell Hermione. But he did ask her about the curse.

“It’s broken,” She’d told him, lips thin, eyes narrowed. “ _ Marietta’s  _ betrayal fulfilled the requirements for the curse to activate - and upon activation, it broke.”

What a shitty curse, Harry had thought, but he hadn’t said it out loud.

Now, Harry wasn’t as good at magic as Hermione, at least, not theory-wise; his marks are higher than her’s are in DADA, because he’s better at the practical aspect at least in that subject - but there are other students in the school that get high marks, and a ‘curse’ sounds a lot like DADA to him. 

Harry accosts Terrance Boot, one of the Ravenclaws in his year, in the hallway outside Arithmancy. Thankfully, Hermione isn’t there to see this - she went the other direction. “Harry,” Terry says, a dubious tone to his voice. Harry imagines it was pretty… odd, that they didn’t even have a formal ‘last meeting’ of the DA. And, also… Marietta. 

“Hermione told me the curse she used,” Harry says. “The scars are curse scars - but they’re there  _ because  _ of the curse. There’s a counter, here,” Harry hands over Hermione’s notes on the matter, which he’d  _ gemino-ed  _ and borrowed from a… well, unaware Hermione. Tom was - useful, for certain things. Taking stuff without being noticed while Harry asked Hermione some distracting questions, maybe.

“Granger give you her  _ notes?”  _ Terry asks, looking them over.

“She told me about it,” Harry repeats because no, she did not. “It was a really stupid curse.”

Terry snorts. “You’re telling me,” He said. “It wasn’t even  _ preventing  _ anyone from blabbing. Alright.” He looked up. “I’ll bite. You bring this up because you want to find a better way of keeping the DA a secret, if we start it up again, without doing this bullshit?”

Harry nodded, quietly. 

“And Granger isn’t here…?”

“Well,” Harry said, “It wouldn’t really help my case if she was.”

Terry hummed, assessing. “I don’t want her there,” He challenged. “She hurt one of ours. Badly. Without warning.” 

“She has to be,” Harry says. “I can’t stop her.”

“Sure you can,” Terry says. “Don’t tell her.”

“I have to,” Harry says. “She’s - she’s like my sister.”

“And family tells each other everything, do they?” Terry questions, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. I guess I wouldn’t be able to negotiate on Marietta joining, either. Alright.  _ She’s not in charge.” _

“Done,” Harry said. “She wasn’t in charge last time, anyway.”

“You didn’t make that very clear,” Terry said, simply. “I get a say - and  _ Marietta  _ gets a say - in the curriculum.” 

“Sure,” Harry nodded. “I mostly ran out of stuff by the end, anyway.”

“And yet you’re the ‘best at defence’,” Terry rolled his eyes. “Right. Fine. I’ll find a spell or two for prevention. Meet in a week in the DA’s headquarters?”

“Compromised,” Harry said. “... but I might have another idea.”

  
  
  



	2. Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you forgot you wrote like 90% of a chapter, find out you did ages later, and then quickly finish and post it... sorry guys whoops my bad

Harry finds Ginny alone in the common room. There's only a few other people around, at the moment - which is what he needs.

"Harry," Ginny smiles at him. "I'm thinking of bringing the DA back," Harry says. "But we can't use the Room."

"We could," Ginny says. "I've been messing around in there in my spare time - not often, but I was looking around to see what you could do with the place, out of curiosity." She stands, moves to leave the common room. "Come on," She says. "Wait a sec," Harry replies, goes upstairs and retrieves the cloak from his trunk. Harry meets her outside the common room, and they hide in an alcove to go under the cloak. "Right," She says. "Good idea."

It's late. Outside, the moon shines bright and full, and Harry wonders how Lupin is doing, for a moment. Most of the walk is in silence, and with the help of a few shortcuts, they arrive at the seventh floor fairly quickly.

The room is in use.

Harry frowns. There are two kids outside the room - two young girls, possibly second years.

"Well, that's not suspicious," Ginny says, dryly. She has a hand on her wand, eyes narrowed in the direction of the kids. "Stunners?"

Harry frowns. "Wait," He says. She does, and after a few minutes - enough time to make Ginny's shoulders tense and for Harry to take out his own wand - another kid leaves the room.

The kid looks wrung out - drained and angry. "Let's go." She snaps, and the other two fall in line. Ginny and Harry share a look, and Harry takes out the map.

"Stunner, now," Harry whispers, low but quick, and Ginny does, as Harry sends off his own stunner. They get the ringleader and one of the guards - and Ginny gets the other before she can finish turning around.

"Incarcerous," Harry says, dropping the cloak and walking over to the three. "Polyjuice," He tells Ginny. "It's Malfoy."

"Fuck's sake," She says and kicks the leg of the nearest - Goyle if the map is to be believed. And the map is never wrong, so... "Great."

Harry rubs his forehead, sighing. "Well," He says. "At least I can say 'I told you so' to Ron and Hermione."

Ginny snorts. She kicks Goyle again. "Come on," She says, lifting the disguised Slytherin. "Mobilicorpus," She says, using magic to lift - Crabbe. "Let's lock them up and get some answers."

* * *

While they wait for the Polyjuice to wear off, and for the three to wake up, Ginny shows Harry what she'd figured out.

"It can make secret passages," She says. "So long as someone is in here, it can make a secret passage to _anywhere._ So -"

"I know it's a bad idea," Harry says, "But I was thinking the Chamber."

Ginny hesitates. "I think," She says. "It'd be a good distraction. We can have it look like we're there, or here, and trade per session. I'd... I'd like to visit there first, though."

"Yeah," Harry says. "I figured - you know."

Ginny smiles, softer than her usual. "There you go," She says. "Not so hard to remember this sort of thing, is it?"

Harry winces, but she's looking at the wall, so Ginny doesn't see.

"Okay." Harry steps back. "Show me how it works."

Ginny frowns in concentration, hair cascading over her shoulders as she tilts forward. "Okay," She says, nodding, as a door appears in the wall. "You can make it into anything," She adds. "So long as it can move - but, this is easiest." Her lips quirk up. "I'm not the most creative person in the world. Still." She gestures. "That should lead into the Chamber. A way down, and a way up, so no-one has to go via a slippery sewage pipe. And -" She focuses - another door appearing. "One secret passage within the secret passage to the shrieking shack." She shrugs. "Other ways to enter."

"Okay." Harry grins. "That works."

She grins back, and then they both hear a groan.

Harry looks over to the cages, and inside - Malfoy is awake, eyes narrowed into an angry squint. Incarcerous hasn't faded yet, so he's still bound, but he looks like the kid still.

Harry tosses Malfoy's wand up in his hand, drawing the Slytherin's attention.

"I'd be careful if I were you," Ginny warns. She walks over towards the cage, keeping a good foot away from the bars. "What the fuck were you doing in here?"

Malfoy sneers at her. Harry tosses Malfoy's wand up and down again, and his sneer falters as he watches it threaten to fall. "Come on," Ginny goads. "Tell us. We've got all night."

"I don't need to tell a blood traitor anything."

"Snap his wand," Ginny says. Malfoy pales, if that were possible, eyes flicking towards Harry. Harry shrugs, takes a hold of his wand with both hands -

"Stop!" Malfoy shouts, perhaps against his own wishes. He looks vaguely panicked. Harry tenses his grip, and starts to attempt to bend the stick - Tom, who has woken up, slithers out of his pocket and darts towards Ginny, whom he climbs until he's seated across her shoulders. "Hey Tom," She says, distractedly. "Hmm."

She looks at Tom. Tom glances at Harry, winks, and then drops down onto the floor and darts into Malfoy's cage.

"He's venomous," Harry says, helpfully. "Found that out the other week."

Hermione had learned that the hard way. It wasn't particularly _dangerous_ venom, but it was still venom. Unpleasant, on all accounts, and Harry did feel a bit bad about it, but she _had_ attacked _Ron._

Malfoy tenses.

"Either you tell us," Ginny says, "Or you lose your wand _and_ get bitten. It's an easy choice, really."

Malfoy's wand isn't very sturdy - it bends pretty easy, weak, and that makes it easier to make him worry about the thing breaking. Harry bends the wand further, as Tom snakes closer to Malfoy, cursing his displeasure the whole way.

"Come on," Ginny cajoles.

Malfoy's jaw tenses. "Fine," He snaps, and Tom stops in his tracks, but rears his head back. "I'm fixing a vanishing cabinet," He rushes, and Harry stops bending his wand, but not before the first break - a crack just at the edge. "Should've been faster," Ginny says, shrugging. Harry puts the wand down on the same table as Crabbe and Goyle's wands, then walks over.

"What's it for?" Ginny demands, arms folded. With a wary look at Tom, Malfoy conceeds. "What do you think?" He sneers.

"Death Eaters," Harry states, months of paranoia finally being validated. "You've been marked, haven't you?"

Malfoy scowls. "Not yet," He says. "I'm at _Hogwarts."_

Harry shrugs. "In all but the literal sense, you've been marked," Ginny corrects. "You're a death eater. You're helping death eaters. What's the _plan,_ Malfoy? Sneak a bunch of your lot in here, commit a massacre on a bunch of eleven-year-old kids?"

Malfoy lifts his chin, haughty even now.

"Katie's necklace, Slughorn's wine - that was you, wasn't it?" Harry presses.

Malfoy sneers at him, non-verbal confirmation.

Harry feels so very _vindicated_ right now.

"Who are you trying to get to -"

Harry freezes.

_Dumbledore's favourite._

Merlin - how did he miss that? Sure, it was a very stressful situation - but after -

"Dumbeldore, right?" Harry says. "You're trying to kill Dumbledore."

Malfoy's jaw tenses. Harry smirks.

"Well done, Malfoy," Ginny says, dryly. "You're _great_ at keeping secrets. So. Where's the cabinet?"

"You'll never find it," Malfoy says.

Harry looks at the wall and concentrates, and three vanishing cabinets appear in the room, all at various stages of disrepair. Harry glances at Ginny, who immediately sends _reductos_ at all of them until they're nothing but splinters on the floor.

Malfoy looks very, very pale. And there's sweat on his brow. Well. The kid he'd Polyjuiced into's brow, which is still _very weird._

"Call the others," Ginny says. Harry frowns at her. She rolls her eyes, sighs, and takes the coin out of her pocket. She waves it at him. "The others," She repeats.

"Oh," Harry says. "Um -" He turns to the wall, making a door appear. He opens it, and drops out of a painting onto a table in the gryffindor common room. someone yelps, as he ends up standing on their essay. "Sorry," He says, and walks over to one of the girls.

"Could you ask for Hermione?" Harry asks her, awkwardly, and she ducks her head, her friends giggling. before she nods and runs off upstairs.

Not too much later, Hermione stalks downstairs, her school robe thrown over her pyjamas. "It's late, Harry," She says, frowning at him.

"I need the master coin," He says. "You borrowed it before the last -"

"Oh, right, to update the charms," She nods. "I'll be right back."

Once she'd given him the coin, frowned at him in suspicion, and then gone back upstairs at his promise he wasn't doing anything stupid, Harry went back through the painting and made the passageway disappear.

"That is useful," He admits, and Ginny grins at him.

Harry calls the DA, setting the meeting to now. It takes a good half hour for everyone to arrive.

"Why are there a - oh." Hermione frowns as the Polyjuice starts wearing off. Suddenly, there are three sixth-year Slytherins sat in too-small uniforms, wandless and mutinous.

Well. Crabbe and Goyle don't look to be mutinous, but that might be because they never look to be feeling much of anything.

"Look who we caught skulking about," Ginny taps the cage with her wand. "And guess what they just confirmed?"

"Malfoy's been working to kill Dumbledore," Harry tells the gathered crowd. "And he's been working to fix one of those," He gestures to the broken cabinets, "In order to bring a bunch of Death Eaters into the school."

He smirks at Hermione, who sighs. Ron walks forward, grimacing. "Should've believed you," He said, grimly, as he stood in front of the cages next to Harry. "Malfoy _is_ the sort."

Harry grins at him. "Right," He says, then looks at the gathered crowd. Tom slithers out of the cage and launches himself at Ron, curling around his arm. "Snake!" Someone shrieks and the Gryffindors in the room just laugh. "That's Tom," Lavender says. "He's cute. And ours."

Tom hisses, pleased, lifting his head and nodding in her direction. Parvati narrows her eyes at him and then looks accusingly at Harry.

Harry winces momentarily. "Yeah," He says. "Tom's ours."

"Token Slytherin," Another voice says, to a spattering of laughter.

Harry grins and looks over to the cages. "So," He says, voice strong. "What should we do with them?"

"You're not - you're not leaving us out of it?"A voice from the back of the crowd says, astonished. "We - we actually get to be _involved?"_

Harry glances up at Ron, who's ears have gone red. "Uh, yeah," He says, looking back at the crowd. "This was just a good time," He says, straightening his shoulders. "We're resuming the DA."

There was a cacophony; cheering, whistling, yells of 'yeah!' and 'about time!'.

"We're going to be more collaborative," Harry says, firmly. "If you have a lesson idea, bring it to me, or Terry," He gestures to Terry, "Or Ron. And - and if you have any concerns, bring that to me too."

"Are we going to vet more?" Zacharias Smith had his gaze locked on Marietta, who had grown out a fringe over the course of the year so far.

"We're going to deal with things better," Harry side-steps. "The measures taken last year were -"

"He didn't know about them," Hermione says, abruptly. She looks tired. "The only person who knew about the curse was me. I put it on the parchment which we all signed. It's broken now, so -"

"Yeah, we know," Marietta interrupts, eyes focused straight on Harry. "What measures, then?"

"I'm not sure," Harry says. "So I was thinking, if everyone could come up with something and -"

"Delegation," Terry nods. "We need more of a structure. Who's in charge?"

"Harry." Ginny looks around. "Right?"

"Yeah," Ron says. "Right."

Tom flicks his tongue out. _"Bipedals."_

Harry rolls his eyes at the adder. "Okay," He says. "So..."

"You're in charge," Terry nods. "The 'face' of the operation - which makes sense, you're _Harry Potter._ Lessons, we've just talked about. Granger can - do theory if we need that. We're not an 'army' in so much as a 'study group', so that is probably a good idea, but not _only Granger."_ He looks askance at her, and she narrows her eyes at him.

"Right," Harry says, trying to distract from that before an argument broke out. "Any volunteers?"

"I can help with charms," Dean offers. Then there's a snowballing of people offering things they could do; theory, practical, and even non-magical aspects that could be useful, like strategy, and physical fighting techniques. 

Well. 'Not so much an army as a study group', after all, but their name **is** _'Dumbledore's Army'._ There's going to be at least a little bit of... that undercurrent running through everything they do. Being a resistance movement is in the group's DNA - and there is a war going on. No-one here is just going to sit down and take it.

Harry gets swept up in the momentum with the rest of them. It's another three hours before people decide to start trailing off, and then they all remember the elephant in the room; three trussed up Slytherins in too-small robes sat in cages in the back of the room, shoved there by an idle thought someone had around two hours prior. 

"Oh, right," Harry says. "Well, might as well." Harry looks at Ron, who nods, and they mobilicorpus Malfoy and Crabbe - Ginny gets Goyle. The four of them (Tom still settled happily around Ron's bicep) and Hermione head off to Dumbledore's office, via way of a secret passage into an alcove near the entrance.

They don't need to speak the password by the time they arrive; the portraits, Harry figured, had sent word ahead. 

Tom jumped from Ron to Harry, and hid himself under his left sleeve. The spiral staircase was somewhat slow, but the five of them took the stairs two at a time (well, four of them - Hermione was a little more careful) and soon, they were stood in Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster's twinkling eyes dimming at the sight of the three incarceroused teenagers floating in front of them.

Dumbledore steeples his hands on his desk, and looks at them over the rim of his glasses. 

"Well," He says. for once seeming somewhat... stumped, for lack of a better word. Tom tightens slightly around Harry's wrist, as if to reassure, or maybe he's just angry; for once, the little black adder is keeping quiet, and since Harry can't see him, he can't know quite what he's feeling. 

"Malfoy's been trying to repair a Vanishing Cabinet," Ginny says. 

"We saw him before school started, in Borgin and Burke's, with Greyback," Harry says. Dumbledore frowns, looking every one of his one-hundred and fifteen years. "I see," He says. He gestures with his ailing hand towards the seats available, and everyone picks one, dropping the three conspirators to the floor. 

"Children," Dumbledore chides.

"Not anymore, Sir," Harry says. "He was trying to get it so he could sneak some Death Eaters onto school grounds."

Dumbledore doesn't respond, just locks eyes with Malfoy and keeps that same frown on his face. His expression grows ever graver.

"What.. is going to be done, about this?" Hermione asks, tentatively. 

"That, Miss Granger," Dumbledore says, "Is the question of the evening... and not one any of you shall be involved in answering." 

Harry gapes at him. He's not the only one - but Ron and Ginny start protesting pretty quickly, and it doesn't take too long for him to follow. However, the Headmaster holds up a hand, and, reluctantly, they quieten down. 

"It is a difficult situation," Dumbledore says. "The politics in the Ministry as of now would make a trial... unwise. As for your involvement, the safest, and the most, is simply _witnesses,_ nothing more." 

He casts his gaze over them. "You may go." The Headmaster locks eyes with Harry. "And - Harry, dear boy," He says, then inclines his head towards the pensive. "Tomorrow, at nine, if you will. Mr Weasley, as prefect - if you could accompany Harry after curfew, as well," His eyes twinkled, "We wouldn't want you getting caught out after hours now, would we?"

After that, and a few more half-hearted protests, they all clear out of the old man's office. 

"Well, that's bollocks," Ginny says. Hermione gasps, and they ignore her.

"Utter," Ron agrees.

* * *

The next day, breakfast is a tense affair.

Everyone in the DA knows about Malfoy - and that means pretty much everyone in the school knows about it by morning, and by morning it's clear something's been done, because the blonde doesn't show up in all his customary haughtiness, not for lunch, or for the first lesson of the day, supposedly, or for DADA. Snape isn't present then either, which sparks even _more_ questions and even _more_ outlandish rumours in response, and by the time lunch rolls around, the whole castle is abuzz with a fervent _need to know._

Alas, nobody is _on_ the need-to-know basis, so everyone is, instead, just left floundering. Including Harry, and Ginny, who really should at least be told _something,_ since they were the ones to figure the whole thing out in the first place. To catch the bastards in the act of trying to _get a bunch of eleven year old kids brutally murdered._ And all.

Tom is busy doing his usual routine of calling Albus Dumbledore every insult known to snake-kind, which. Well, there's another reason for his namesake. Once again, thirteen-year-old Harry thought he was being funny, and really, sixteen-year-old Harry pretty much still agrees with that sentiment... but he does wish he'd chosen something else. Anything else. He could've found a name for the snake like he had for Hedwig, all loaded with symbolism and whatnot, but no.

Instead, he'd named him _Tom._

Oh well.

"-wrinkly old skinny fucking codger with a-" Tom continues his tirade, which to everyone else sounds like very loud and persistent hissing. Potentially sounds like what it is - aggravated hissing - if the person knows the snake well enough.

"Still not happy, is he?" Ron asks, as he plates himself some bangers and mash. "Not at all," Harry affirms. Ron knows Tom pretty well. He can't understand parseltounge himself, obviously, but Ron's one of the only people Tom bothers to resort to nodding and shaking his head at, so the two of them have figured out a very basic sort of communication.

(Tom refuses to find a way to communicate with Hermione, which is probably the best, for all their sakes. Harry's not sure he could handle his friend having a full-blown argument with his snake, especially when that argument would mostly be composed of poor communication, leading questions, and angry yelling from both parties. It would be just _utterly aggravating,_ and Harry doesn't want to start yelling at her again, because of course that would end up happening, and then she'd start _crying,_ and. Ugh. _Crying._

Gross.)

"What's he yelling about?" Ginny asks. Dean tries to offer plating her food for her, awkwardly, and Ginny grimaces, declines, and pours herself a bowl of porridge. Seamus stabs his bacon rather forcefully for no particular reason. 

Yikes. 

"The whole Malfoy situation," Harry says. "-blasted old-timer brilliant scheming fuckwit bipedal nuisance-" Tom continues. 

Ron snorts. 

"He sounds.. vehement," Hermione says, slathering butter onto her toast. "Is he...?"

"He's fine," Harry says. "It's cathartic."

"Ooh, big words." Terrance Boot slaps a folder onto the table, startling Neville and a few other people. "Here's the plan. Read it over, send it back. Annotate." He nods to them, and then returns to the Ravenclaw table, sliding onto the bench beside Marietta, opposite Cho. 

She's less teary-eyed this year. A little more... not quite like what he remembers, from before Cedric. But a little happier. She smiles, occasionally. Harry thinks - maybe - now, if she asks him, he might... Well. If anyone deserves to know what happened, it's Cho, isn't it?

* * *

" _Just take the silky haired bipedal's advice,"_ Tom says. Harry is staring up at the canopy of his bed, and is currently very happy that no-one else can understand Tom, otherwise they'd be hearing Harry get _dating advice_ from a _snake._

As it stands, it's still not great. Harry didn't ask for this; Tom just occasionally likes to give Harry unsolicited advice in the middle of the night. He doesn't seem to think Harry knows what he's doing, and, to be fair, he's often right about that. Harry very rarely knows what he's doing - most everything he's ever accomplished has been done, in major part, by sheer luck. Good fortune. 

It's probably just a balance thing. The severe bad luck to be considered the subject of a prophecy by a megalomaniac with no nose and severely awful beliefs and genocidal tendencies, balanced out by the utter nonsense Harry has survived throughout the past sixteen years. Not a very _good_ balancing act, but at least the universe is _trying._

" _It's more complicated than that,"_ Harry tells the adder.

" _No."_ Tom hisses. _"Wrong."_

Harry sighs. He runs a hand down his face, tired, and then sighs again out of sheer exasperation. 

" _Yes,"_ Harry replies. " _Correct."_

Harry sighs, again, for a third time. 

" _Look,"_ He says. " _I..."_

 _"No."_ Tom says. _"You think too much, idiot stick-waver. Your bipedal is unlikely to reject you."_

" _That's not the point,"_ Harry says, even though it half is the point. Like he said, it's - complicated. 

Ron likes Hermione, anyway, and obviously, clearly, in many ways, _Hermione is not Harry._

And that's that.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously when Harry thinks 'ugh. Crying. Gross' he really means 'i don't know how to emotion correctly dear god what is this???? help?????' so there's that. 
> 
> Also OOPS where did that angst come from

**Author's Note:**

> People making better decisions, basically. For my piece of mind. 
> 
> Inspired by a tumblr post abt harry having a lil' pet snakey boi and asking it if Ron thinks he exists, it's a cute post, I don't have the link, someone help me, and also @vivi for inspiring me to write this; ur the best!


End file.
